The Dropkick Clique
by Grimjawa
Summary: An underachieving stoner, a gamer with a few anger issues, an entitled cheer captain wannabe and a closet genuis looking for an escape. Four people that could not be more different eventually become family. A family that can't seem to stay out of trouble, or the clutches of ravenous murderers and criminals. Oh, and let's not forget about the magic dog...
1. Meddlers

**A/N {Hey, everybody! This is only an experimental fic and I'm not quite sure about it so Let me know if you all like it - review or PM me to tell me what you think and I'll continue it. I wrote it during a bout of writer's block I had while doing another fic, and for some reason, this came to mind. Scooby Doo was an awesome part of my childhood, something I used to watch on a daily basis after school and even to this day I remember it fondly. Hopefully you all enjoy this little fic, and it doesn't ruin your mystery solving dog memories too much.}**

The neighborhood passed them by as they sped through red lights, intersections and school-zones. Fred stared out the window, wishing he wouldn't have overslept. He'd missed the bus by just seconds, and now the teenager was stuck with having to ride shotgun with_ her_. He turned his head just enough where he could see her out of the corner of his vision and watched as she checked herself out in the mirror, making sure her make-up was perfect and that she looked as good as she hoped. She caught Fred watching her and smiled. He turned away.

His father's assistant, Miranda was driving him, which was the exact opposite of what the young man wanted. Fred hated whenever she was around. He had trouble being around her, especially knowing the relationship she had with his dad, and that was probably the reason his parents divorced. Then again, it might not have been Miranda who was the cause of the two separating, but a different woman that Fred's father decided to sleep with. That was always a possibility…

Miranda brought the car to a halt at the curb in front of Daniel Harkon High and put the car in park. "Well, this is your stop."

Fred nodded and zipped his bag closed. "Thanks. I appreciate the lift, Miranda."

"No prob. You're not forgetting anything, are you?" she inquired, looking around the interior of the vehicle.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Later," Fred said, swinging the door open and stepping out of the SUV.

"Ya' need me to pick you up? I can if you-"

"No. I'll catch the bus, thanks."

"Alright. Have a good day, Freddie."

Miranda pulled off, and accelerated up the street, going way beyond the speed limit, Fred was sure. The senior just shook his head and started toward the front door. As usual, most of the other students that attended classes at DH High were mostly quiet as they walked into school; they knew Principal Harkon was watching them from the window of his office, and he wasn't one afraid to expel. He did anything in his power to keep the name of the school his grandfather founded untarnished. The man was a hard-boiled hard-ass and none of the students or faculty members liked him. He was the kind of guy you wouldn't be surprised to see in a news report as being left in critical condition after being beaten half to death with a sex toy.

Fred walked through the doors into the hall, observing the other students. Since it was a private school, the place had a fairly strict dress code: both girls and guys had to wear khaki's, loafers and a crimson polo top. If a student was caught out of code, they got written up, and with too many write-ups, they got suspended. Too many suspensions brought on expulsion. The enforcement of dress code was up to the monitors that patrolled the halls. Most of them were pretty cool and let little things slide, but there were a few that reported damn near everything and students had to be careful around. It was one of the things Fred disliked about his school. One of many.

Coming to his locker, Fred turned his combination lock and popped the red door open. He looked to his left when a student came to his side. It was just Velma Dinkley, his locker neighbor. She was a short girl, with bobbed brunette hair and a pair of thinly framed glasses that she always seemed to wear. Freckles dotted her face around her nose and cheeks and earbuds hung from the sides of her face. The wire led to the pocket of the sweater she wore over her polo.

"Hey, Velma," Fred said.

She didn't respond.

"D'you see the meteor shower Saturday night?"

She didn't respond.

"Don't you ever wish that meteor or something would fall from space and hit the school at night? So we'd get a couple unscheduled days off or something? It'd be perfect if it hit when Principal Harkon was still at school working late and just got … crushed."

Still no response from the little nerdy girl. She got her books, shut her locker and walked off. There was never a time when she _didn't_ have buds in her ear. It was hard to hold a conversation with the girl; she always had her face buried in the screen of her 3DS or Vita, pumping metal music into her skull.

Fred watched her leave and scoffed. He put on his best girl voice and said, "Oh, gee wiz, Fred, that's hilarious. You're just so fucking cool. Now I know why all the girls are after you…"

He shut his locker door and headed off to class just as the bell rang. First, he had Social Studies. Social Studies meant he was going to have to sit in front of Mr. Oak for a good forty-five minutes. Hopefully, Fred would be able to get some shut-eye, stay under the old bastard's radar.

* * *

Two lives left. The woodland area was always a tricky zone to get passed, especially two-thirds in, when the fourth wave of speeders came through. They came in a weird formation unique to that level, eleven of them flying in a zig-zagging pattern that always caught Velma off guard. Her thumbs were wiggling the joysticks of her Vita like mad as she tried to get by the onslaught to the next power-up, which would either be a bubble shield, or a buster canon. She was hoping for the latter, it would be more help against the optional boss she was planning on engaging after breaking through the tomb door which would fall right off of the beaten path.

Velma usually didn't play bullet-hell shooters at school, but she forgot to bring the case she carried her games in, and Spectral Vector was one of the only games she had on her hard drive that she had yet to finish. All her RPGs were at home, probably sitting on the floor beside her bed. She was going to have to start checking her book bag before she left the house. She could live without her textbooks, but not her Persona 4.

"Ms. Dinkley. You paying attention back there?"

She looked up to Oak briefly and returned her eyes to her Vita screen. "American Revolutionary War, started April nineteenth, 1775…" she groaned as her ship was hit by a stray bullet, undoubtedly caused by the distraction that Oak provided her.

"Very good, Ms. Dinkley. Although it did occur on April nineteenth, 1775, we're not talking about the Revolutionary War today. We're talking about the allies' invasion of France. D-Day."

Oak slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, strode over to her stared down at the girl and stood over her as she continued to play her game under her desk. The teacher reached down and snatched away Velma's handheld, luckily for her she was able to pause it before he did, or else she might've done something she would have later regretted. She couldn't save her game, though, and was farther than ever in the forest.

"Velma, you are an amazingly gifted girl. You're so smart, and yet you insist on wasting your intelligence on this bullshit all day."

"Give it back please," Velma politely demanded, voice cracking slightly.

"You know what? I think I'm gonna' hold onto this until your grades improve…"

She shot up from her seat. "No fucking way! You can't fucking do that!"

Slowly, and with a self-important grin, Oak turned around and said, "I think I fucking can."

Plopping back down into her chair, the young woman sighed.

The Vita was unceremoniously dropped into the depths of one of the drawers on the other side of Mr. Oak's desk. "Alright, people, you're gonna' pair off and work on a report on D-Day, I want it in by next week Friday. Listen up, 'cause I won't repeat the pairs." Oak picked a list up from atop his desk and began to read off names. "Billy and Adrian; Max and Rebecca; Howard and Phillip; Velma and Fredrick; Amy and Lisa; Norville and Daphne-"

A hand was raised in the crowd of about twenty students and without having to even look, Oak knew just who it was. "Mr. Oak…"

"What is it this time, Ms. Blake? Broke a nail? Split ends? Late period, perhaps?"

The unnatural red-head smiled and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Oak, but could you repeat that last pair. I know you said you weren't repeating yourself, but I just need to hear it one more time…"

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes. "Norville Rogers and Daphne Blake. Is there a problem with that?"

The pale-skinned, prissy girl cocked her head to the side. She glared at her apparent partner, the dirty-blonde haired slacker that sat a row in front of her. "Sir, could I please have a different partner? Anyone else, I don't care who it is. I mean, I'll even take Jones!"

"Insulting…" Fred stated.

Norville turned around, the shaggy blonde hair for which he was nicknamed after wafting as he did. "Hold on. The hell's so bad about having _me _as partner?"

Daphne feigned deep thought, tapping her index finger against her chin. "Gee, let me think. You're a friggin' moron that's just barely keeping his head above water, and I wouldn't be surprised if all you did all day is smoke and tug your boat."

The guy leaned back in his chair, balancing his weight on its back legs and smiled cheerfully. "What I do with my 'fun stick', milady, is my business."

"Trust me Rogers, everyone would prefer if you kept it your business, but I'm making a point."

"A moot point, Ms. Blake," Mr. Oak said, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. "You two are partners. I don't care if you get along or not, just make sure there is a report on my desk with both your names on it by Friday."

She threw her head back in exasperation and groaned, "Fuck me!"

"Y'know, I'm starting to get tired of your attitude Ms. Blake," the teacher said.

"Oh, really?" she inquired, a challenging little grin across her lips.

The man shrugged loosely. "How 'bout detention? Maybe if you miss the game tonight, you'll have a little more respect for your teachers."

"You're joking…"

"I most certainly am not. Mr. Rogers can join you. We wouldn't want you to get lonely, now would we?"

Slowly, with utter hatred and disdain, Norville turned to his partner. "Well you just screwed my day…"

The bell rang again and the students automatically began packing their books and pencils. "Alright, class, that's it, I'll see you all on Monday."

The teenagers started to pour out of the room, and as Daphne passed him by, Oak eyeballed her. "I'll see _you_ in a few hours, Ms. Blake," he added.

She just kept her eyes forward and left the classroom without a response. Fred made his way out of the classroom as well, checking his phone for any text messages he might've received during class. Once out in the hall, his arm was grabbed and he stopped and looked up. Velma stood beside him, leaning against the wall just outside Mr. Oak's classroom, fuming behind her thinly framed glasses.

"What's up?" Fred asked, a little frightened by the look in her eyes. "You wanna' schedule when we'll meet up so we can start on the project?"

"No. I wanna' pry Mr. Oak's skull open with an ice-cream scooper," she said through grit teeth.

Fred had already taken two steps back. "So … that's a normal thing to say."

"I'm gonna' scoop out the little tiny brain that he has, put it in a fucking waffle cone and make him eat it with sprinkles."

"… Starting to the think I should relay this to some form of law enforcement…"

"Fred. I want my Vita back," Velma stated.

The blonde shrugged and said, "Go ask him for it. He won't give it to you, but it's not like there's anything else you can do."

"I haven't saved my game, and if the battery dies, I'm gonna' lose all progress. If that happens, I may just become a serial killer. You can prevent several deaths and the skinning of dozens of cats, just by helping me to get my Vita back."

Fred looked down on the girl and smirked. "The only way to get your game back would be to break into school after hours and steal it… Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"I'm not helping you break into the school."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes. You. Are."

"No. I'm. Not."

"Then I'm telling all the girls on the cheerleading squad that you're a bitch, and you're tiny down there," Velma said, bobbling her head side-to-side.

"Are you really threatening me right now?" laughed Fred.

"Is it working?"

"… Meet me around the back of the building at six-thirty."

"Would it also be possible to break into Oak's house and put a rat in his ass?"

"One felony at a time."

"Or maybe we could try to get a hold of a sexually aggressive squid, or some other type of tentacled beast we toss onto his face or body in the dead night…"

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

* * *

The smack of another pink bubble blown from Daphne's lips popping hit Norville's ears and he looked to the girl that sat on the other side of the room, staring out the window at her fellow students walking down to the football field to attend the game. She was missing a Friday night game, because she had detention, of all things. She even had to sit back and watch as the cheerleaders made their way down the path, getting ready to do their routine. Daphne couldn't believe they passed on her again. This was the third year…

Mr. Oak was sitting comfortably behind his desk, face buried in the pages of a book. _I could kill him and no one would be the wiser…_ she thought. She could feel Norville's eyes on her, but he was too stupid and or stoned for his testimony to hold up in court.

"What unholy crime did I commit in a past life that earned me a partnership with you?" Norville inquired. "I must've been Lee Harvey Oswald, or something. Or the guy in the Big Bird costume."

"I don't like this little pairing either, Norville, but we've just gotta' buckle down and deal."

"Coming from the girl who just a while ago was begging for anyone else."

"I'm still not too keen on having to do an assignment with Norville Rogers."

"For the love of god, don't call me Norville! You know I hate that name. Just call me Shaggy."

"Well, _Norville_, I hate your guts."

Mr. Oak tossed his book onto the desk and stood. "I'll be right back. No talking, understand?" The man left the classroom without another word, probably to use the restroom, leaving the two students alone.

Once Shaggy was sure the man was out of earshot, he turned his chair toward Daphne. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Yes, I do mind."

"Cool, so, why are you such a bitch?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Dude, we used to be friends, and you used to be fun to be around, but ever since the last year of middle school, you started acting like this? What the hell happened?"

Nervously, Daphne shifted in her seat, avoiding the stoner's gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Bull crap. You remember. You just don't want to."

Finally, she met eyes with Shaggy. "You're damn right I don't want to remember! No one at this school can know we used to hang out."

"Why? Because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to rub elbows with the jocks and the cheerleaders? If anyone found out we used to be friends, you wouldn't be able to pretend to be a part of a clique that a bunch of self-important kids invented? You wouldn't be able to so thoroughly kiss Lisa's ass if she ever learned of your relation to me."

"Shut up, Norville…"

"Or what?" he challenged, leaning forward in his seat and brushing his dirty blonde hair from before his eyes. "There isn't anything you can do to me you haven't already, sweetheart."

"Alright, maybe I'm sorry. But everything is different now."

"You realize not one of the stuck-up kids you look up to and want to be so badly even likes you."

"Maybe I knew that…"

Shaggy got up and slowly approached the girl. He sat down at the desk beside her and stared at her red hair. It was pinned in place by a small silver barrette on the right side of her head. "You even did your hair up just like Lisa Michaels. What happened to the Daphne that used to hate girls like her?"

The pale girl hung her head low, mumbling, "I don't know…" She reached up and unclipped the barrette, letting her dyed red hair hang free.

"I miss that girl."

"Okay, say I maybe sorta' wanted to kinda' almost make it up to you. How would I go about doing that, hypothetically?"

The guy put on a bright smile and thought for a moment. "Mr. Oak isn't back yet… Why don't we get outta' here?"

"And go where?"

"To the game! Let's go watch the Harkon Harpoons get their asses beat by yet another team!"

Slowly, the girl nodded and briefly showed smirk. She stood and said, "Alright. Yeah, let's go to the game!"

* * *

The Harpoons were actually putting up a decent fight, much to Shaggy's surprise. Usually they received a thrashing throughout all four quarters of the game, but apparently, all the time coach Gibson was making them put into practice was really helping. The Harpoons weren't winning, but they weren't far behind the visitor's. Shaggy sat relaxed on the metal bleachers beside Daphne at the very top of the rows of seats, looking down on the field.

"Come on, Kevin! Don't just stand there, masturbating, throw the ball!" Shaggy hollered.

The entirety of the audience groaned and swore when the quarterback hesitated and was sacked by an offensive linesman that was able to slip through his defense. "This game would be a lot better if we were drunk right now…" remarked Daphne without thinking.

"You're right. Come on, I've got some beers in my van. We can go, get plastered, then come on back and see if the concussion Kevin got last month improved his game any," Shaggy said, standing and dusting the rear of his pants off.

"Cool."

As the duo walked down the bleachers, Lisa Michaels took note of them and snickered from the sidelines. She approached them just as they were about to leave the field, her friend Amy in tow, both wearing fleering grins. Daphne turned her head and tried to avoid their gazes, beginning to pick up the pace of her walk.

"Daphne, where're you going? The games not even over yet!" Lisa addressed her with a friendly tone.

Daphne needed an escape. She couldn't let Lisa see her, especially not with Shaggy… "Oh, I'll be back!"

"Hold up, Daphne, who's that you're with?" the head cheerleader asked, her grin spreading wider. Shaggy stopped and turned to her, looking Lisa up and down. Her jaw dropped and her hand hovered before her mouth. "Norville fucking Rogers? What're you doing hanging around this degenerate?"

Shaggy scowled at the girl and said, "Get bent, Lisa."

"Good comeback, spaz." Lisa turned her green eyes to Daphne and smiled. "Y'know, Amy and I were talking about how we passed on you during tryouts and thought that maybe we were a little too harsh on you."

Daphne's heart fluttered and she took a wide step forward. "Really? You're serious?"

"Yeah. We might consider giving you another shot if you, um, I don't know, invite the squad and some of the Harpoons to your house for a party tomorrow…"

Lisa continued talking, but Daphne had stopped listening. She was going into the back of her mind, trying to locate the source of the feeling of déjà vu she was experiencing. Then she found it. Last year, Lisa had done the exact same thing and told her that she would get another chance to audition for the cheer squad, except it was during the summer and the head cheerleader wanted to use the pool in Daphne's backyard. Twenty people came to her house, trashed it and then left and afterwards, when Daphne asked Lisa about another audition, she was told she'd have to try next year like everybody else. She was constantly used by Lisa and her friends, and then after she did everything they asked of her, they always just walked away. Daphne was tired of being used.

"So, we'll probably show up at around five or six, make sure your parents aren't there, they'll just get in the way," Lisa continued.

"No…" Daphne told her timidly.

"And it would be awesome if you could get us booze, too."

"No! I'm done, Lisa. I'm done being your fucking bitch. Why don't you promote one of the other self conscious girls that look up to you to head ass-kisser? I'm sure they'd be more than willing to kiss the ground you walk on and stand at your side the next time your holding your breath, waiting for the results of yet another pregnancy test after you cheat on your boyfriend again."

"You fucking cheated on me?"

Lisa turned around to see Kevin standing behind her, his helmet under his arm, wearing an angered expression. The cheerleader tried to backtrack, stumbling over her words as she tried to make something up. Quickly, she got close to him and wrapped her arms around his thick chest. "Kev, baby, don't listen to her…"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back. "Who with?!"

"Babe, it's not-"

"It was Mike, wasn't it?"

The quarterback turned on his heels, barreled toward his wide-receiver drove his fist into the guy's jaw. The fight that ensued was brutal, the two players throwing punches like they were paid cage fighters. All the Harpoon team members soon jumped in, trying to pry the two athletes apart, but after a few accidental shoves and some name calling, the rest of the team joined in the melee as well. Cheering erupted from the stands, students hooting and hollering. The visiting team just watched in awe and amazement as the Harpoons ripped each other apart.

Daphne and Shaggy smiled at the sight and looked to each other. "You still down for a beer?" the red-head asked.

Shaggy nodded and said, "Hell yeah. The smell of ball sweat and testosterone is starting to get to me."

* * *

_No problem! I'm still at the office but, if u don't mind waitin 4 a while, I can come and get u n ur friend after I leave._

Fred slipped his Android back into his pocket after reading the text and placed the tip of a cigarette between his lips. He patted the pockets of his pants, but couldn't seem to find his disposable lighter. "Son of a whore. Where did I put that thing?" he mumbled.

"Looking for something?"

The blonde jumped back at least a foot when the voice slithered into his ear and turned. Velma stood at his right, still dressed in her uniform, but wearing a black hooded sweatshirt over it. Raising her brow with a slight smirk, she studied his startled state. Fred quickly recomposed himself and, in a desperate bid to reestablish his masculinity, unknowingly flexed his muscles beneath his polo and dropped his voice a couple of notches.

"It's about time you showed up… Yeah, let's go commit a crime!" he continued to posture.

"You sound like James Earl Jones Jr. with a head cold."

"I'll still take that as a compliment," Fred said, enjoying the boost to his ego. He looked up to the window they were going to attempt climbing through and then back down to Velma. It stood about ten feet off of the ground.

"Exactly why can't we go through a window closer to the ground?" the gamer-girl asked.

"'Cause this is the only window with a broken latch no one knows about. All the others are sealed up tight," explained the teen confidently. "Trust me on this, I walked around the school during lunch, and this is without a doubt the easiest way to get in. The janitor will have locked all the other entrances by now."

"Wow, you actually did some prep-work?"

Fred knelt down and interlocked his fingers together. He looked to Velma expectantly and said, "Well? Come on. One of us has to go up and I doubt you can lift me."

Velma pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and placed the heel of her loafer onto his hands. She balanced herself, placing her hands against the walls of the building, and began to put her weight on Fred. Slowly he pushed her up until his hand and her foot was about stomach level and the girl reached, stretching for the ledge.

"Alright, push it open," Fred grunted.

Velma pushed upward on the windowpane, but it only budged an inch and a half. "It won't move!"

"Well, try harder!"

As Fred held the girl up, Shaggy and Daphne rounded the corner, beers in hand and smiles on their faces. The two happened upon what they thought was the strangest scene, and Daphne looked down at her beer, making sure that it was actually beer she was drinking and not something stronger that knocked her right off her ass. She then looked to Shaggy to make sure that he was seeing the same thing.

"You see the two kids breaking into school, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, and not to sound like a character out of a movie, that's not something you see every day…" replied the young C-student. "In fact, I don't think I've every seen that once."

Noticing the pair out of his periphery, Fred asked, "Velma, do you have a cousin or something that could possibly dispose of witnesses?"

Velma swung her head around and swore under her breath. Raising his hands in the air in surrender, Shaggy said, "Don't mind us. We're just passing by. We saw nothing."

"_Wrong_. We saw everything," Daphne corrected. "Why are you two breaking the school?"

"We're planning on stealing something, so… if you could run along…" Velma suggested, continuing to push against the glass.

"Well, you're never gonna' get into the place that way," observed Shaggy, swallowing a swig of beer. He turned and jogged back around the corner. He quickly returned with a crowbar in hand. Handing it up to Velma, he said, "That should be much more help."

The nerdy girl looked over the tool and failed to stifle a laugh. Most of the tool was red, but both of its ends were painted matte black. "Am I supposed to use this to pry open the window, or pry a crab off of someone's head?" She slid the bar into the small opening she'd made and applied pressure. It slid up with a crack and Velma struggled to climb up into the opening. She just sort of dangled there, kicking her legs and whining.

"Oh, come on!" Fred grabbed onto her lower body and pushed her up into the opening. He then took a step away from the window and looked to Shaggy. "Thanks for the help, Rogers. I owe you one."

He lunged forward and leapt up, grabbing onto the ledge. Daphne and Shaggy watched as he struggled to climb, somehow entertained by the sight. The sound of approaching voices, familiar voices, sent chills up the stoner's spine and he dropped his beer.

"Where did that bitch go?!" Daphne heard the distinctly whiney voice of Lisa growing louder as she got closer.

The prissy red-head dropped her beer as well and started to look for an out. "Oh, shit… we gotta' get outta' here! I'm a lover, not a fighter!"

"Come on, you can take tiny little Lisa."

"No, I can't! That chick is crazy!" she said, doing her best to whisper as the posse grew closer. She could almost feel their bloodlust. Daphne stepped back a few paces, took three bounds toward the opening and sprung forward, grabbing onto the windowsill and easily clambering through.

Shaggy was so shocked, for a second he'd forgotten about the ravenous gang wanted to hogtie him too. He quickly followed his fellow students. Once inside the school, he shut the window behind him, ensuring their pursuers had no clues as to where their prey had escaped to. He watched as Lisa and four others strode by, looking for the pair. All that was missing from the angry mob were torches and a monster to angrily chase. Shaggy decided it would be best to go and find the others.

He wandered down the dark halls. The school was much different at night, almost scarier, and Shaggy really wished he could've found somewhere else to hide. He was in the northern part of the building, near the science classroom and lockers. The young man had absolutely no choice but to pull his cell phone from his pocket and turn the flashlight on the back on, illuminating the dark hall before him. Now that he could finally see clearly, he could make out the others ahead of him, looking through the small window in the center of Principal Harkon's office.

Approaching, he said, "Hey, we could use my van to get outta' here. If it'll start…"

"Shaggy. You'll want to look at this…" said Daphne.

The young man joined them at the window and his stomach churned at what he saw. Sitting in his chair, leaned back with eyes pointed up at the ceiling, was Principal Harkon. The handle of a knife jutted from his chest cavity, crimson staining the usually pristine white dress shirt he always wore.

Velma noticeably swallowed and said, "I can always come back for my Vita…"

**A/N {As I said, R/R or PM if you want this one continued!}**


	2. Dropout Complex

"Mr. Harkon… you alright?"

"Of course he's not alright, Shaggy! Pretty sure he's dead…" Velma pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as she leaned in close, examining the corpse. She placed her index and middle fingers to his throat, directly beneath his jaw, looking for a pulse. "Yep. Definitely dead."

"Oh shit… what the hell happened?" Shaggy asked, slowly reaching for the knife in the man's chest with a shaky hand.

The short girl swatted his hand away mercilessly. He snatched his hand back like a child that'd just been reprimanded for attempting to touch the eye atop a stove. "Don't touch it, idiot! Fingerprints."

Fred slowly did a three-sixty, looking all around the room. "What's the likelihood that Harkon did this to himself?" he asked. "'Cause, if I'm not mistaken, driving a knife into someone's chest cavity until they lose so much blood they stop living is considered murder. There is a murderer somewhere inside this place, where we currently are. I hope you all realize that."

Everyone stood erect like statues with wide eyes. "We gotta' call somebody!" Shaggy stated.

"Who?"

"I dunno'! The police, SWAT, the president, the fucking marines, Master fucking Chief, Optimus Prime, Cobra Commander, Michael Corleone-"

"Shaggy, stop," Daphne demanded.

"Darth Maul, Hermione, Frodo Baggins, Scott Pilgrim-"

"Shaggy!"

"Daniel Bryan, Master Splinter, Katniss Everdeen, Ash Ketchum, Goku, Naruto Uzumaki-"

"I swear if you don't stop talking, I'm gonna' take that knife, cut all your pubic hair off and make you eat them," Daphne growled.

"Imma' stand in the hall…" Shaggy whimpered.

Velma scoffed as the stoner stepped out of the room. "Need I remind you all that we technically broke into this building?!"

"Not technically – we _did_ break into this building," Fred stated nervously running his hand through his short blonde hair. "We can't call anyone without getting arrested ourselves."

Fred took a slow stroll through the office as the others continued the freak-out session they were in. Something was wrong in the office, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He circled Harkon's chair once, looking the desk up and down and saw that several of the man's possessions were either overturned, or broken, like the prized golden football trophy that always sat on the left side of his desk, polished to a near mirror sheen.

"It must've been some kinda' struggle in here…"

He caught Daphne inspecting the knife out of the corner of his eye and turned to her. "Where've I seen this before?"

Fred waltzed over to the body as well and assessed the weapon. Its handle was wood with two ivory plates drilled into the sides and a smoke-grey hand-guard. It stood out in his mind as well as something he'd seen somewhere before. Taking a moment to shut his eyes and reach into the archives of his mind, Fred tried to remember. It took a few seconds, but then it came, the exact location where he saw the knife.

His eyes fluttered open. "Mr. Stevens…" he mumbled.

"What?"

"Stevens, the chemlab teacher! He has a knife just like this! I saw it in his desk one day!"

"Are you telling me that our chemistry teacher is a murderer?" Daphne attempted to inquire with a straight face. "Come on, he's not Walter White. I've never met a more passive man in my life!"

Shaggy rushed into the room, almost as pale as Daphne without make-up, and taking shallow breaths. He spoke in a panicked, scream-like whisper as he jumped up and down like a child that had to pee, "Somebody's coming this way, there is a person in the hall and they are walking in _this_ direction!"

"What? Was it Stevens?"

"I didn't fucking stick around to see!"

The sound of footsteps clicking down the hall was heard and the quartet began to panic even more. Velma actually began to tear up as she said, "He's gonna' cut off our faces and use them as condoms for when he has sex with stray cats…"

All eyes fell upon Velma. "Is that really what you picture when you think of us getting murdered?!" Fred squinted.

"Shut up, you douche bags! Hide! Everybody hide!" Daphne whispered.

Fred jumped into the long locker that stood against the wall, pushing the clothes within aside and shutting the door behind him. Glancing around for a brief moment, Velma decided to slide Harkon's chair back a few inches and crawled into the space beneath his desk. Moving from place to place in a hurried fit, Daphne couldn't find a hiding place that didn't make her look like a moron. She went from behind the sheer curtains, to behind the suit of armor that stood on display against the wall, to posing as a statue.

Fred reopened the locker door and waved her over, "Who are you, Daffy Duck? Get in here!"

She scurried over and slid into the small confined space along with him. Just as the locker door was closed, the office door swung open, and the teenager's ears were greeted by soft, musical whistling that reminded Velma of the opening riff to Enter Sandman. The clicking of casual dress shoes against the hard floor accompanied it. Fred craned his neck, leaning his head toward the slits in the locker door to try and get a look at whoever had stepped into the office.

Neat chocolate colored hair, light stubble upon his face and chin, and dark eyes. It was undoubtedly Stevens. The man strode casually around the wood desk to the corpse of Harkon and tightly wrapped his fingers around the Ivory handle of the knife jutting from his chest. Fred watched him pull a square handkerchief from his pocket, which he then used to wipe away the crimson from his blade. A stinging pain struck Fred's side and he reached down to pull Daphne's hand from his ribs.

"What're you doing!?"

"I'm kinda' a little claustrophobic!" she whispered in return, reaching for the young man's side again.

Fred cringed and as her finger sunk into his shirt. "Okay, claustrophobic, I get it, but you can't take a friggin' kidney!"

He peeked through the slits again. Stevens was nowhere to be found. Fred's brow furrowed and he slowly opened the door, cursing the rusted, squeaky hinges of the door that groaned. Velma poked her head up from under the desk like a meerkat.

"He gone?"

Fred shrugged. "I think so."

Daphne shoved her way out of the cabinet and burst into the openness of the office, taking in deep breaths. "Oh, thank god…"

"We have to get the hell outta' here and let somebody know about this," Velma stated.

"You're right. Come on, let's try to get to the parking lot. My dad's assistant is coming to pick me up, I'm sure all of us can fit in her SUV…"

Daphne finally calmed herself and quelled the panic attack that'd started to rise. She then looked around to see that only two others were in the office with her. "Where's Shaggy?"

"Over here!" the stoner hollered.

The trio scrambled to the window where the cry for help had emanated. The young man hung from the windowsill by just his hands, dangling probably fifty feet above the pavement. "Couldn't find a decent hiding place, Rogers?" teased Fred as he offered him a hand, pulling him back up into the office.

"No, I just love hanging from the sides of educational institutions."

Fred poked his head out of the office, making sure to look both ways down the dark hallway. He then gestured to the others to follow and stepped out, turning to his left and beginning a light jog. "Alright, we'll just work out way down and head out through the gymnasium…"

Usually, working his way out of Daniel Harkon High from the principal's office wasn't a difficult feat, but the darkness disoriented Fred and he was beginning to lose his bearings. He stopped at an intersection in the hall and looked around for any familiar sights. As he observed their surroundings, Fred heard a distinct soft ring behind him and turned. Velma stood with her back to one of the lockers, the light from her Vita reflecting off of the lenses of her glasses.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her.

"Making sure my save progress isn't corrupted…"

"There is a murderer running around, and you're worried about your game? No wonder Oak took that thing away…" remarked Daphne with a grin.

"Wait, I remember where we are now! Follow me!"

The quartet dashed down the hall and came to the window that allowed them entrance into the school. Fred grabbed the frame and lifted, but once again, it refused to move. Spreading his legs for a little more leverage, he applied even more force to the lift. It didn't budge.

Velma nudged him and nodded toward the window. "Uh, Fred…"

He focused and noticed that it had been locked. It wasn't like most windows where you could just turn the latch to unlock it – a key was needed, something only teachers and the janitor carried. "Shit! The fucking janitor must've fixed it…"

"Fuck it, just break the window!"

Fred turned his back to the glass, and raised his arm into the air, ready to drive his elbow into the window. "What're you kids doing in here?"

Everyone froze. "Mr. Stevens…" Velma greeted.

"How'd you four get in the school?" the teacher asked. In his arms he carried a long, empty black bag. One that'd be perfect for storing the bodies of dead people.

"The janitor let us in," Fred lied confidently and with little difficulty. "We're just coming the game and Daphne remembered she'd left her wallet in her locker. We saw the Mr. Adams on the way over here, and asked him if he'd let us get it really quickly."

"Sweet lies…" Daphne whispered to the young man.

"We definitely weren't in the principal's off-" Shaggy began to ramble nervously. Daphne wound up, and threw a punch into his gut.

"Shut your mouth!"

The bag Stevens was carrying fell from his grasp. "You… you were in the office?"

"No, no, don't listen to him, he just smoked some really strong weed!" the nerdy girl stammered.

Bathed in the pale, silver moonlight that poured in through the window, the man revealed the knife he'd had pinned between his brown, leather belt and his pants. His eyes were dead and his expression colder than stone. He took a step forward best described as menacing, one that made Fred's heart pause in his chest and sink just a few inches lower. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his entire life, but for some reason, his mind was clear. It wasn't muddled with thoughts, flooded like it usually was. His mind burned with different things, but they came to him in order, and he was able to analyze them. He knew what he was going to do…

"Split up!" he screamed.

The quartet broke into the pairs, running in two different directions, forcing Stevens to hesitate for a few brief seconds. Fred moved as fast as he could, taking random turns and refusing to look back to see if he was being pursued. He did, however, quickly glance to his left at Daphne, who was moving just as fast, eyes shut tight.

"Jones! Blake!" they heard the teacher's voice call from down the hall. "Stop!"

"We gotta' find somewhere to hide!" Daphne said.

Fred wracked his brain, picturing where they were in the building and thinking of places it would be difficult to find them. "The gym…"

He grabbed onto Daphne's arm and made a sharp right, heading down the hall toward the gymnasium. "What're you-"

"Don't worry, I've got an idea!"

Bursting through the gym doors, Fred stood in the center of the basketball court, looking around. "Keep a look out for me," he told the girl.

"Shit, whatever you're thinking, it better be good."

Formulating the finer points of his plan as he ran to the storage room, a smile spread across Fred's face. Daphne watched through the glass window on the gym doors, looking for their murderous instructor. The man appeared to her out of the darkness, still holding his knife and walking purposefully. "He's here, he's here, he's here!" she announced in a whisper.

"Okay, get away from the door."

As she went to hide behind the bleachers, Daphne caught a glimpse of Fred out of the corner of her eye. "What. The. Fuck," she said, pausing to admire.

"You want that freak to cut your face off and use it for contraception? Hide!" He turned back to the door. "I'm about to go _ham_ on this mudda' fucka'…"

"Good luck, Jones."

Fred waited patiently for his moment, facing the door, crouched like a big cat waiting to pounce on its prey. Though his "prey" was a thirty-something man who was built fairly well and could probably kill him _without_ a weapon, let alone with a steel, sharpened one. As soon as the doors swung open, he sprung off of the balls of his feet, moving forward like a freight train. When Stevens saw the young man – dressed in a set of football shoulder pads, with a baseball bat in hand, and a Harpoons helmet atop his head – his mouth fell open. Fred threw all his weight into the man, driving his shoulder right into his chest, leveling the chemistry instructor. The man was left lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Fred stood up, snatched off his helmet and spiked it. "Boom! Feel that blood in your lungs, son?! You just got Jones'd!"

Daphne emerged from her hiding place, dusting her khakis off. "'Jones'd'? Really?"

"You know that was fucking awesome!"

"I gotta' admit, it was pretty sweet…"

Stevens quickly sat up, as if he was The Undertaker, and turned to Daphne. The two teens were already running…

* * *

It was silent in the cafeteria, except for the breathing of the two teens that called the room their hiding place. They sat on the floor in the kitchen, behind the counter. Between the two sat a bag of honey barbecue potato chips that they took turns eating from. Velma had since calmed herself down from the hysteria she was bordering on, and the food was definitely helping Shaggy's nerves.

"He must've gone after Fred and Daphne…" Velma said, reaching her hand into the bag once again.

"I don't wanna' sound cold or anything, but thank god."

"No kidding."

Shaggy took a handful of chips and asked with full cheeks, "Sho, how come I don't shee you hangin' out wit friends around shkool and shtuff?"

The girl sat in silence for a good few seconds. "What friends? No one wants to be around me."

Swallowing, Shaggy said, "I don't know why, you're pretty cool."

"I know why. No one can be around me 'cause Lisa Michaels forbade them. No one in the school defies Lisa Michaels… they don't want to risk social exile."

"Why would she do that? What problem does she have with you?"

"No one else knows this, but Lisa and I are step-sisters. My dad remarried two years ago, and I, unfortunately got_ her_ for a step-sibling. She hates me, my sister Maddy, and our dad…"

"Whoa, I had no idea th-"

The door to the cafeteria swung open. "Did you see the way he looked at me?!"

"Shut up and look for somewhere to hide!"

Shaggy stood and waved over to Fred and Daphne. "Hide back here!"

Quickly, the duo clambered over the counter and crouched down. "He behind you?" Velma asked.

"Yeah, at least last time I looked, he was."

"I was pretty sure the two of you were dead, so… it's good to see you," smiled Velma, her glasses sliding down her face.

Daphne pulled her knees up into her chest. "We're _lucky_ that freak didn't get a hold of us. Fred's brilliant 'plan' almost got us killed! He thought pretending to be Clay Mathews was a strategy."

"Well, at least I'm trying to get us out of this," he retorted.

"Not very hard, apparently…"

Fred shot an angered glance toward the red-head and Shaggy put himself in between the two, snuffing out the argument before it started. "I don't feel like dying today, you jaggoff's, so get it together! We need a plan and we need it fast! So start thinking, or I'll kill you myself."

Fred shut his eyes and started to think again… No one could ever get a descent cell phone signal in school, so there was no way to call the cops, and the doors were locked so unless they found a set of keys, they were stuck. There were probably only two sets of master keys that were left in the building: the one probably still in principal Harkon's possession, and…

"The janitor!" he whispered in realization.

"What?"

"The janitor has a master key on him at all times, one that he takes home with him, but I know for a fact that in his closet is an old ring of keys that goes to different locks around the school! If we can get a hold of that, maybe we can get outside."

"And get to the taser my dad bought me for my birthday!" Daphne added. "It's in my car!"

"That's actually a good plan, Fred," complimented Velma.

His shoulders shrugging loosely and Fred smiled with pride. The sounds of footsteps out in the hall quieted the teens. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the steps continued on down the hall, and began to fade.

"We can't do anything with Mr. 'Stabbypants' running around… We'll need a distraction."

Another moment of silence. Shaggy shoved a fistful of chips into his mouth, and stood. "I'll do it…"

"Really?"

"Just… just make sure you get the keys." The stoner pounded his chest as the chips were so to go down his gullet and belched. "I still don't wanna' die in here."

Daphne stood as well. "You're not doing this alone." She ran into the back of the kitchen and came out with a bottle of cooking oil.

Shaggy looked at her. "What're you gonna' do? Fry him?"

Running a hand through his blonde hair, Fred turned to Velma and sighed. "Think you can make it to the custodian closet on your own?"

She nodded.

"We'll make sure he doesn't come after you."

The trio hopped over the counter and dashed out into the hall, hollering and shouting. Fred repeatedly rapped his bat against the lockers that lined the walls, their sound echoing throughout the school. Velma sat there, listening to the sounds of chaos, trying to get her nerve. She brought her hand up to her chest, feeling the racing of her heart beat against her palm. Everything was so surreal, but she knew she wasn't dreaming, she knew that what was happening was real and that if she didn't get herself together, they could all die.

A loud smack was all that was heard in the cafeteria and Velma's cheek turned red. The self-inflicted pain was the kick in the ass that she needed. She rose, dusted herself off and got moving.

* * *

"This was a terrible idea!" screamed Shaggy as he ran for his life.

Stevens had taken the bait indefinitely and was chasing after him like a bulldog after a chicken with bologna pinned to its back. Shaggy was regretting volunteering for the distraction job. Though he probably was the fastest of all four of the high-schoolers, the teacher wasn't giving up the chase. Shaggy was beginning to wonder if Fred's plan was actually going to work – the guy's grades weren't much better than his.

He was coming to a short set of stairs where one hall descended into another and continued on. As soon as Shaggy's feet were at the edge of the first step, he hoped up on the railing that stood erect in the center of the staircase and slid down to the bottom. Standing there for a few seconds, surprised he actually make it _all the way_ to the bottom without falling off, Shaggy eventually remembered the psychotic murderer behind him and started running again. Fred and Daphne were crouched down, waiting for him at the end of the hall. The stoner turned around just in time to catch Stevens taking his first step onto the oil-slick stairs.

The man's foot was swept from underneath him by the oil greased over the slippery staircase and he fell downward onto the rigid surface, his back bending and twisting in what appeared to be unimaginably painful ways. The trio were clutching at the sides and stomachs in violent laughter as he came sliding down to the floor, unmoving.

"Oh dear lord, I can't believe that worked!" Fred was just barely able to utter through his rampant laughter. "He looked like a damned hand puppet! Like Grover!"

Shaggy immediately stopped laughing and turned to Jones. "Hey. Don't you ever, and I mean _ever_, make fun of Grover…"

The young man's laughter halted and he slowly turned to Shaggy. "Dude. It's a puppet."

"Guys…" Daphne warned.

The two boys turned around to see that the murderous teacher was slowly rising. "Why the hell is this guy so durable?!" Shaggy asked. "He's like Wolverine!"

As soon as the man was on his feet, the teens turned to the door to the chemlab, attempting to retreat. The door was locked, like most every other door in the building and as Daphne and Shaggy pushed their shoulders into the door repeatedly, Fred stood ready for the man, baseball bat in hand. As Stevens drew closer, the teen panicked and chucked the wood tool at him. It didn't even come close to hitting its target.

Daphne punched him in the shoulder and asked, "Why did you do that?!"

"… I have no idea… Shaggy, come on, let's just kick this guy's ass the old fashioned way!"

Fred and Shaggy charged Stevens; roaring like a pair of gladiator's rushing into battle. The stoner was quickly taken out of the equation with a loafer to the chest and the man swung his blade at Fred, cutting open his polo shirt and creating a line of blood across his chest. The young man reached up to his chest, feeling the warm liquid seeping out of the shallow wound. He took two hysterical steps backward and looked back up at the teacher.

Before he could move again, two prongs were driven into the killer's back. Electricity was snaked through the two wires attached at the ends of the prongs, overloading his nervous system and causing a violent quake to run through his body. After trembling for a good ten seconds, and losing control of his bladder, he collapsed to the floor. Fred followed the two lines from the man to the taser in the hands of their nerdy little Velma.

"I miss anything?"

* * *

Squad cars were parked all around the entrance of the school and news vans were just beginning to pull up. When Velma dialed nine-one-one, she hadn't expected things to take such a crazy turn. Nothing bad ever happened at D.H. High; it was one of the most exclusive schools in the country, somewhere where the self-important, self-entitled and those with rich parents – or in Shaggy's case, a mother whom can efficiently forge documents. It wasn't a place where staff killed each other in cold blood.

The four teens sat back on the concrete steps to the school, watching it all unfold; reporters interviewing police officers, parents standing behind the police tap, enraged by the fact that something like this could happen at such a prestigious academy. They'd already gone through shock, and for some reason, the four young adults were all feeling pretty good about themselves, despite coming so close to death.

Daphne took in a deep breath, shutting her eyes, and let it out. "Is anybody else a little weirded out by just how awesome everything seems right now?"

"Just go with it, Daph…" Shaggy said, leaning back.

Two large, burly officers exited the school, each holding an arm of the vicious teacher that attacked them. The students just watched as he was escorted down, hands linked together by a pair of cuffs. They weren't intending to poke the bear, but none of them could help but wear smug, victorious grins as he walked by.

"Enjoy prison, you lunatic," Fred remarked.

The man silently went on as the officers pushed him along. A thought came to his head, and Shaggy said, "Hey, if they send you to Barrow Penitentiary, tell my cousin I said hi! Oh, and let him know that you tried to kill me, he'll love that."

"I still don't understand why a teacher, at a school like this, one where the pay is actually decent, would do something so stupid…" said Daphne absentmindedly.

"Principal Harkon's wife was cheating on him with Mr. Stevens…" Velma stated.

"What?! How do you know that?"

"After I got Daphne's taser, I stopped by the principal's office to do a little snooping… I found Stevens' phone, and there are messages and phone calls from Harkon's wife in there, with some pretty sexy stuff in it." The geek pulled a black cell phone from her pocket and tossed it to Fred.

He scrolled through the contents of the device until he landed on the gallery. "Velm, did you, uh, check out the pictures?"

"No, why?"

"Full-frontal Patricia Harkon, that's why," he said, turning the screen to the others.

The shocked expressions they wore told spoke for them. "Send that to my phone," Shaggy said.

"I know I'm sending it to mine…"

Daphne stared at the photo through half-lidded eyes. "Pretty sure I'm not gay, but that's kinda' awesome…"

Reluctantly, Fred closed out the application, and sat the phone down. They continued to stare out at the commotion. "We're all social outcasts. The only four people in the school that no one likes… I hope you guys realize that." He paused for a moment, taking everything in. "And I'm okay with that…"

"Yeah. We've got each other…" said the tall stoner with a grin. "… Not to sound too sappy…"

Nudging him with her elbow, Daphne agreed. "Nah, you're right, Shaggy. We got no one here but each other."

Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, staring out at the madness, the four teenagers actually felt a connection, actually felt like they were friends. Strange friends that under any normal circumstances would not be together, but friends nonetheless. They were comfortable.

Velma picked her father out of the crowd, standing anxiously and looking around with worry. A small grin spread across her face. "My dad's here, so I guess that means it's time to go," she said, standing. Quickly jotting down her number on a small piece of paper and trying to ignore the reddening of her cheeks, she handed it to Fred. "Bye guys…"

"Bye, Velm."

Shaggy rapped his hands against his knees rhythmically. "I'd better get gone too. My mom will put out a missing persons report if I'm not back by the time she gets off work."

"You need a ride, Fred?" Daphne asked as she pulled the keys to her purple Fusion from her pocket.

"Nah. I'm good. I'll see ya' later, Daphne."

The red-head stood and strode toward the parking lot, leaving Fred alone. He leaned his head back and observed the black sky above. Clouds and the lights around him impeded his view of the stars, much to the young man's disdain. He inhaled deeply and rose. Miranda probably wasn't coming. She was his father's assistant and if the man called, she had to drop whatever she was doing and go to him; it was her job.

He started what would be a long walk home… Fred had already given his statement to the police, the paramedics patched him up, but his shirt was still torn. As he passed one of the officers by, he handed the teacher's phone to one of the friendly officers that had come to their rescue and started up the street.

The frantic honking of a horn behind him made him turn. A dark blue SUV pulled up to the curb and parked crooked. Miranda jumped out of the driver's side of the vehicle, her curly blonde hair bobbing along with her movements. She wrapped her arms around him tight, nearly squeezing the life out of the seventeen year old.

"Ohmygod, I'm so sorry that I'm late, there was an accident on the highway, and everything was gridlocked and I was freaking out…" The woman was beginning to tear up and Fred hugged her back.

"It's … okay, just don't start crying."

"It's not okay," she said, pulling back and looking him up and down. When she saw the blood on his shirt along the diagonal cut in the fabric, she asked, "Oh my god, what happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing. The paramedics already checked me out," he assured her.

Miranda hugged him once again, tighter this time. "I'm so sorry. Let me take you home…"

She pulled the teen toward her vehicle and he climbed into the passenger side. Miranda, still fighting a losing battle to her tears, jumped into the driver's side and started it up. As she pulled back out into the street, the woman glanced over at Fred with a regretful stare.

"Don't look at me like that Miranda… Trust me, I'm alright. Actually … I'm great."

Those were the strangest words to ever come out of Fred's mouth considering the circumstance, but he stuck by his statement. He felt better than he ever had in his life.

* * *

The school was ablaze with rumors and talk of what transpired just a short week ago. D.H. High students got a little over seven days off because of Mr. Stevens, and there was a strange feeling that hung in the air. Things were a little livelier than normal since they didn't have to worry about Harkon watching them so closely, but a replacement was already in his seat in vice principal Graham. But she was in her office, still trying to clean up the fallout from the passed Friday.

Lisa stood with Amy by their lockers, still fuming. She slowly shook her head in anger and said, "I cannot wait for that bitch, Blake, to show up today. She's gonna' wish that Stevens would've gotten a hold of her last week..."

"Just let it go, Lisa," pleaded her best friend. "It's best not to make any waves with how unstable everything is right now. You don't want Ms. Graham to expel you. We don't know what she's like really; she could be just as trigger-happy as Harkon!"

"I don't give a fuck! No one messes with Lisa Michaels!"

A silence fell upon the students and Lisa glanced around at the strange behavior. They were all looking down the hall. She followed their line of sight to the quartet making their way down the hall confidently. On the right was Shaggy, walking with his bookbag slung over his shoulder, wearing a pair of shades and a skullcap with a pair of Vans on his feet. Fred was beside him, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, an orange bandana with a faded skull and crossbones design printed into it wrapped around his neck, and his polo tuched into a pair of black jeans instead of the khaki pants that was uniform. Next was Velma, her hair dyed black with a streak of grey running down the side, reminiscent of a certain X-Men character, sporting a new vampire bite tattoo on her neck, and wearing a pair of fingerless gloves. Daphne, of course was dressed the wildest of all, in a short skirtted Japanese school-girl sailor uniform that matched the red and tan colors of the school with red and white stripped knee socks and her bright red hair cut pixie style.

Four people that had never been seen together before walked as if they'd been friends their entire lives, striding through the halls without a care in the world. Daphne shot a mocking grin toward Lisa as they passed the cheerleaders by and continued on. Lisa stepped forward and called, "Blake! Where the fuck are you going?"

Daphne slowly turned around. "To class... Why?"

"You and I aren't done, bitch."

"Do you really wanna' do this?" she asked with a sneer.

Lisa took several aggresive steps forward and pointed a thin finger at the red-head. "Listen to me, you slut-"

Velma dropped her books and ran forward. She jumped up into the air at an angle, shifting her weight and turning her body to the side, and drove the soles of her boots right into the cheer captain's chest. There was an eruption of cheers, gasps and other expressions of shock and awe as the two young women fell to the floor with a pair of thuds. Velma squirmed around on her side, but Lisa was completely unmoving. The nerdy girl gestured to her friends with a grimace.

"That was a bad idea, I'm in serious pain right now..." she whimpered. "Might need help getting up... Nope, definitely need help getting up."

Shaggy and Daphne came over and assisted her to her feet. "You gotta' learn to control that temper, Velm," smiled Daphne.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Shaggy asked.

Fred wandered over to Lisa's moaning, injured formm and knelt beside her. He leaned in real close, until their faces were just inches apart and took a draw off of his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke in her face and whispered, "You just got Dinkley'd, sweetheart..."


	3. The Start of Something Mysterious

"Do you actually play this thing?"

Shaggy averted his attention from the TV, temporarily putting his movie on hold to see what Fred was gesturing to. He stood before the matte black Les Paul in the corner of his bedroom, strumming at the strings with his thumb, producing a cringe-inducing sound that just didn't sound right. A thin layer of dust had collected on the black body, making the abysmal black appear an almost dark grey. Even so, it still drew Fred's eye.

"Nah, man, I never really learned. It was my uncle's."

"You mind?"

"I don't give a shit. You can smash it like Cobain for all I care," said Shaggy, pressing play on the DVR once again.

Fred picked up the instrument, sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to play. He plucked at the strings, trying to remember the chords to Black Sabbath's Iron Man. "Dude, have you ever tuned this thing? The strings are completely dead."

"Whadday' mean? You can't kill something that was never alive in the first place," retorted Shaggy.

Fred took the grey pick on the dresser in hand and, as the guitar whined and growled roughly, and tunelessly, under his touch, he thought of their upcoming graduation. The shock and awe that he felt having actually made it through school without being failed was beginning to wear, leaving a feeling of satisfaction and triumph. Things had returned to normal around school since the incident with Stevens, and the commotion that surrounded the event had subsided completely. No one had forgotten how Velma kicked the living shit out of Lisa Michael's, though… Fred had to admit, that moment was forever etched into his mind, too.

"Daphne's having a party, y'know. Graduation night at her place," Shaggy told Fred as he passed him by, striding in the direction of the kitchen. "She wants you to come."

"Anything I should bring? Booze, maybe?"

Shaggy returned with a box of colorful candy's in hand, shrugging loosely as his jaws worked. "She didn't mention it, but I'm sure she would want you to try and find some strippers. And I'm sure that if Daph was here, right now, she'd want those strippers to be well endowed, and she'd also insist that price is not an issue and she'll foot the bill for the dancers."

"You are an evil genius."

"No. I'm a person that uses his immense intelligence for nefarious, rather despicable, purposes that only I benefit from… Totally different," Shaggy said through the rainbow colored squares filling his cheeks.

"Where is Daphne, anyway? I haven't seen her for two days."

Putting on a big smile, and showing the red and blue stains on his teeth, Shaggy said, "Get this: Daphne is currently grounded because she broke her curfew four days in a row. She hasn't been able to leave the house for any reason except school. It's awesome."

Confused, Fred looked at his friend strangely. "What's awesome about her being grounded?"

Shaggy tossed his cell phone to Fred and said, "Read the latest message I got from her…"

Aloud, the blonde repeated what was on the screen. "My parents are a pair of … of carpet munching, salad tossing, Nazis. I wish a handsome vampire would come along, ripe out my dad's intestines, tie him up with them, and make him watch as he finally gave my mom an orgasm… which is probably the reason she's such a bitch. Never gets laid…"

"How amazing is that?"

Fred rubbed his chin in thought. "… I'm starting to think there's something wrong with our female friends…"

"Really? You're just now starting to realize this?"

"Hey, get off my back; I'm always quick to trust pretty faces!"

A rapping heard at the front door of the small, two bedroom apartment of Shaggy's got his attention and, with a lazy groan, he rose from his comfortable position on the couch, but collapsed back down into the cushion. He gestured to Fred and said, "Answer the door, Jarvis…"

"Did you just- Never mind…" Fred walked to the door and put his eye to the peephole. All he could see was the stairs leading up to the third floor of apartments and the very top of a black beanie swaying back and forth with rhythm. "Velma's here," he called to Shaggy.

After unlocking and opening the door, Fred was pushed aside by the short girl who forced her way into the house. The look of panic she wore unnerved him. "Where's everybody?" she asked.

"Hello to you too. Shaggy's in the back, but Daph isn't here."

Velma snatched the beanie off of her head and ran to the back of the apartment, where the stoner's room was. When first entering, one could clearly make out the smell of marijuana smoke trapped within the threads of the carpet. There was no question that the residents were smokers. Entering the bedroom, the little nerdy girl stepped before Shaggy, blocking his view of the movie he was watching.

He stared at her for a moment, and then politely offered his candy. The box was swiftly, and heartlessly, smacked from his hands, spilling its contents across the floor. "Candy!" Shaggy hollered, his mouth still full of the sticky, fruity chews, obscuring his words.

"Fuck your candy!"

"Well someone's feeling feisty!" Fred said from the hall.

"I just found out that there's a secret concert going on tonight…" said Velma, showing a toothy grin. "Abby Railway is performing downtown at a warehouse, and we're going!"

"Who the hell is Abby Railway?"

"Only the most amazing indie rock band of all time, since last month!"

"Well, I hope you thoroughly enjoy yourself," stated Shaggy, ending the conversation.

"I said _we're_ going. Us. Multiple. Plural. You two morons are going too," Velma said, un-ending the conversation.

Fred was already shaking his head as he entered the room, handing Shaggy a replacement box of candy and cracking open a can of beer. "Oh, no. I'm done with punk rock shows. I always wind up right in the center of the moshpit. _Every_. _Single_. _Time_. I've gotten punched in the face on three separate occasions, at three separate shows… Now that I think about it, it might've been the same asshole all three times…"

"Come on, you guys will have fun."

"Sorry, Velm. It's not happening," said Fred, plopping down on the sofa beside Shaggy.

Another knock at the door and Shaggy groaned. "Jarvis."

"I'm going…"

Fred opened the door again, with Velma continuing on in his ear. Standing on the other side of the doorway was a girl, golden-brown hair braided at the back of her head and draped over her right shoulder, light blue eyes that almost appeared hauntingly so white, with skin that was as clear as a model's and a smile that probably could've killed. In fact, when she flashed it, Fred could've sworn he was having a heart-attack, or something near to it. He _had_ to know who this girl was.

"So, are your friends going, Velma?"

Velma sighed and shook her head.

"What're we gonna' do with the extra entry tickets, then?" the strange, gorgeous girl asked. "You wanna' just sell 'em?"

"I guess we'll have to…" Velma shrugged.

"Um. W-who're you?" Fred asked.

"Oh, Fred, this is my friend, Kaitlyn. She's going with us."

"It's nice to meet you," said the girl, again flashing that smile that just caused Fred's heart to flutter. He was speechless.

"Shaggy, get your shit! We're going to a concert!" Fred hollered back into the apartment.

The C student poked his head out of the bedroom and replied, "Come on, man! I thou-"

"Well, you thought wrong! Get your stuff!"

Velma put on a smile. "So, you two _are_ going?"

"Hell yeah!"

* * *

The four-wheel-drive pick-up rumbled down the street, roaring like the vehicular monstrosity it was as Kaitlyn caressed the accelerator with the soles of the black boots she wore. The boys sat in the back, Fred watching the world go by and Shaggy staring holes in the back of his head. The stoner knew that his friend could feel his eyes on him, but Fred refused to turn around. Shaggy threw a light, discreet punch into the young man's back, as to not alert the girls to what he was doing.

Jones turned quickly. "Listen man, I'm sorry, but I had to meet this girl!" he whispered. "Come on, it won't be that bad. We'll go, listen to some hopefully good music, and hang out with a pair of awesome girls! You _cannot_ tell me that's not a great way to spend a Friday night!"

He had to think about it. Now that Shaggy was hearing it, it did sound like fun, especially considering he was just going to sit at home and watch Bleach. He gave in. "Alright, but you owe me…"

"For what? Getting you invited to a concert?"

"Alright, I owe you. How the hell did that happen?"

Kaitlyn looked in her rearview mirror at the two sitting in the back of the vehicle's cab and asked, "So, you two go to school with Velma?"

"Yeah. You don't?" Fred asked.

The blue-eyed girl's cocoa colored locks bounced as she shook her head, reaching down to select one of the CDs in the radio. "We took classical music lessons together."

Shaggy leaned forward and said, "Wait. Velma, you play classical music?! You?"

"I'm a cellist," replied the girl, accompanied by the sounds of growling, barking and chirping. "I swear to god, if this Torchic doesn't evolve soon, I'm gonna' put it back its pokeball and then dump the thing in a trash compactor!"

"You're awesome, Velm," said Kaitlyn, smiling at her friend.

"I know."

"So, about this band…" Fred started.

"Abby Railway. Local alt-rock band, only been together for about a year and a half," explained Kaitlyn as the car came to a halt at the back of a large warehouse. Cars were parked in rows and dozens of people marched their way excitedly toward the building's main entrance. Fred had expected, when told it was a secret show, there wouldn't be a huge turn out, but he was obviously wrong.

"And they're amazing!" squealed Velma as she slipped her 3DS into her pocket.

Kaitlyn smiled as she swung the car door open and stepped out. "They're not _that_ good, sweetheart."

The rest of the teens followed suit, climbing out of the large Ram truck and into the comfortable, cool night air. They began a slow, deliberate walk toward the brick and steel building, which had long since been out of use, abandoned. It was the perfect place for a bunch of people to gather to listen to a really loud rock band and get drunk off their asses. There was buzz of electricity in the air, something that just excited, made them anticipate the very first chord out of the amplifiers.

On their way to the entrance, Kaitlyn turned right and began to wind around the back of the building. "Uh, where are we going?" asked Shaggy, thinking of how bad things always happen in warehouses in movies. "If there's a gang of ruffians or teenage vampires around the corner, I'm done."

"We're going in, just not through the main entrance," replied Kaitlyn. She reached into her pants pocket, pulling three red wristbands and distributing them amongst the others. "Hold on to these, in case the bouncers try to throw you out. Also, if one of the security guys wants to mark your hands, don't let 'em. Bartenders won't serve you."

Marching in through the suspicious back door of the warehouse, the group's ears were met with raucous cheering, swearing and hollering – the sounds of a concert getting ready to begin. They appeared to be at the back of the stage, with musicians carrying their instruments around, tuning and preparing them for the show. It all looked so crude and unprofessional, but the men and women still seemed to know what they were doing.

"You guys gonna' stay back here?" asked Kaitlyn as a tall, dark-skinned woman handed her a white and blue Fender Mustang guitar. She began to play harmonics, trying to assure the strings were properly tuned to drop-D.

Velma shook her head and said, "We'll probably go out into the crowd. Get a better view. Maybe a little drunk."

"You play?" Fred asked the girl.

She shrugged loosely. "A little." Satisfied with the tuning, Kaitlyn brought her pick down on the heavy-grade strings of her instrument in slow succession and grinned. She looked around the backstage area, and when she found the drummer still assembling his kit, said, "Jeremy, that thing better be put together in the next two minutes! We don't have much time."

"Yes ma'am," the young man droned in response. Fred thought he recognized the guy from school. If he wasn't mistaken, he played for the Harpoons as a defensive lineman.

She turned to the dark-skinned woman that'd handed her the guitar, who was frantically bouncing around, helping get everything ready for the show. The woman carried two amplifiers in each hand by the handle, walking them to the stage. "Alicia, make sure-"

"Mustang facing the crowd, I know," the woman cut her off.

"I love you," Kaitlyn said affectionately with a smile.

"I'll believe that when I start getting paid for this."

"So," Fred thought, continuing to observe the chaotic scene, "Abby Railway is _your_ band?"

Alicia stepped back off of the stage and gave Kaitlyn the thumbs up.

The woman turned, winked to Velma and started to walk away. "Enjoy the show," she said.

"Good luck, Kat," called the short brunette.

"Don't need it…" said Kaitlyn, her back to them as she climbed the steps of the stage. She then turned to what were apparently her band mates. "Get your asses up on stage you pansies!"

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, as she often did, Velma turned and said, "Let's go out to the front of the stage. You guys are gonna' want a front-row view of this."

She led the two blondes out from the back of the stage, into the sea of people impatiently waiting for the curtain to rise. That feeling of anticipation had returned and even Fred was calling for the show to hurry and start. For some reason, he was even more attracted to Velma's friend after learning she was a musician, and that she was in this band. He wanted to see what they sounded like, now.

A guy came from backstage, grabbed a hold of the curtain and pulled it back, revealing the three members of the band that stood before the riotous crowd, inciting a near deafening roar from the dozens and dozens of men and women. After the cheering died down slightly, Kaitlyn stepped forward, Fender in hand, wearing a different expression than when she was speaking with them before, like she was a different person all together. She approached the microphone standing at the head of the stage, and grabbed the device with her right hand, bringing her lips to it. Before she even spoke, whistles and howls were heard in the warehouse, from both male and a few female members of the crowd. She just smiled sligtly at the reaction, and curtsied a little.

"How you assholes doin'?" asked Kaitlyn softly.

The crowd cheered. Loudly.

"For those of you that are seeing us for the very first time … allow me the honor of introducing the band. On drums we have the Dallas bad-boy, Jeremy Jupiter." A rapid drum roll followed the introduction. "The gorgeous guy beside me with the five-string bass is Andy Starke. Unfortunately ladies, he's not single." A chorus of high-pitched cheers followed. "Lastly… my name is Katrina Wolf. We are Abby Railway."

The crowd welcomed the introduction openly, and a series of low kick-drum beats erupted, followed by chords and riffs that hummed like an angelic choir during the verses, accompanied by the beautifully dark vocals and lyrics Kaitlyn – or Katrina – sang into the microphone, and complex basslines. The lovely sound was replaced by a growling, distorted tune when the chorus kicked in, backed by the repeating kick-drums. Katrina played chords without even looking down at her instrument, singing and staring out into the crowd. She was performing without even thinking about it, as if everything came naturally – black nailed fingers working up and down the neck of the stringed instrument like a spider climbing its web. Their bassist swung his head back and forth wildly as he grooved along with her. The cohesion on display gave the illusion that the group had been playing together for decades, even though they had only been a group for several months. Their music would be nothing without the solid, even and perfectly timed beats produced by Jeremy Jupiter, grinning proudly as he pounded away on his kit.

By their third song, the alt-metal style was already stuck in Fred's mind, something he was unable to forget. He was so enwrapped by the sounds that he hadn't noticed the whirlpool of people slowly forming around him, growing in speed and intensity as the song progressed. When the first chorus hit, and Katrina screamed into the microphone at the top of her lungs, it exploded into a rushing tsunami, pushing each other back and forth violently. Fred had found himself at the epicenter of yet another moshpit. He did not struggle, did not resist, but went along with the flow, slowly pushing his way out of it. Only barely did he duck the punch that was thrown at him.

Shaggy appeared out of the crowd and approached Fred. "Got stuck in another pit?"

"Yeah. I almost didn't make it out of that vortex with my head…"

The messy-haired guy nodded toward the bar that had been shoddily put together, probably for this show, and said, "Velma got us a few seats."

Wading through people – Fred was almost certain that his ass was grabbed a couple of times – they came to the bar, where Velma already had two beers waiting for them with two open stools beside hers. "You two seem to be having a good time, despite how much you fought me on this," she remarked as the pair sat down.

"Gotta' admit, Velm, this was a lot more fun than I thought it would be," said Shaggy.

Fred grabbed a beer by the neck, raised the perspiring glass bottle into the air and smiled. "A toast to the spazzy, easily provoked, be-speckled girl that is our friend."

The three toasted and turned the bottoms of their bottles upside down. "Y'know, I was thinking," stated Shaggy after whipping away a trail of beer that ran down his lip to his chin, "what if we all went into business together? Me, Daph, and the two of you."

"What kind of business? An escort service?" asked Velma following a brief moment of contemplation.

Velma seemed to consider the proposal. "No, but that's a good idea… How come I didn't think of that?"

"Hey, if we're starting an escort service, I definitely want to be on call for any rich housewives with neglectful husbands," Fred said.

Velma took another swig of beer. "Okay, let's get back to the business you were talking about, Shaggy."

"Right, right, I was watching Psych, and got the idea to start an agency, one that kind of investigates strange things. I thought that we all work together pretty well. Individually, we probably couldn't accomplish much of anything, but as a unit, we were able to stop Stevens."

"You wanna' start an agency like Psych?"

"Exactly!"

"So … that would make me James Roday, you Dule Hill, Velma Maggie Lawson, and Daph Timothy Omundson?" Fred wondered.

"I suppose it would…"

The band was still jamming away with the same energy level as when they began. It was amazing watching them groove, though it was not Velma's first time seeing the group perform. She tapped her fingers against the bar-top along with Jeremy Jupiter's rhythm. "I dunno', Shaggy, a detective agency? Doesn't seem like something there's a high demand for," stated Velma, watching the band perform from her stool. In particular, she watched Andy, gleefully creep along the stage, plucking at his instrument with a heavy-grade pick.

"Come on, you can't tell me that we didn't make an amazing team that Friday night!"

There were few minutes of silence amongst the three, beneath the rumbling of the amplifiers and the beat of the drum kit. Fred shrugged his shoulders loosely, and took another sip of his drink. "This might be the beer talking, but I think it could be fun."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it doesn't seem like fun; I'm saying we'd be wasting our time. Who's gonna' hire a bunch of teenagers to solve crimes when there is a dedicated police force?"

"We'd be more like private detectives," Shaggy said. His voice took on a pleading tone as he turned to the young woman. "Come on Velm, I already have a _name_!"

"A name?"

"For our company!"

"Were you 'under the influence' when you came up with it?"

"Perhaps."

"Alright, lay it on us, Shag…"

"Mystery Incorporated."

The name hung in the air, striking a chord in the minds of the two teenagers. Fred repeated it once aloud, and that same ring was heard, though it might've just been the cow bell Abby Railroad's drummer had struck. It sounded strange and at the same time rolled off the tongue with ease, almost naturally. Shaggy nodded proudly as his companions mulled the thought over for several seconds.

"I like it," Fred finally admitted.

"So do I."

"I knew you guys would," said Shaggy.

"So, what, we just solve random mysteries?"

"Anything we get paid for, Velm."

"Gotta' admit, that still sounds like an escort service."

A crescendo was building on stage. Fred had lost track of how many songs they had played so far, but it couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. A break came in Katrina's lyrics and she looked out into the crowd and showed that smile, that smile that captivated the blonde teen. Slowly the music became quieter until she stopped playing all together, leaving Andy to ride the bass drum beat solo, playing the same note repeatedly in unison with the slaps of the foot-pedals.

The singer spoke up. "We haven't 'hit it big' yet, and sometimes we wonder if it's all worth it. If people out there are actually enjoying our music, if anyone out there really does appreciate what we do. We aren't able to do shows like this often, because booking gigs isn't easy … but when we break into a warehouse, set up our speakers and you all come out just to hear us play. It's the best feeling in the world."

A collective roar from the crowd followed.

"Anyone out there who wears a Abby Railways t-shirt, or has our names tattooed somewhere on their bodies, or has seen every one of our shows, I just want you to know we love you. And when we're playing Madison Square Garden or Wembly Stadium, I want you standing in the front row, understand?!"

Another cheer.

"Thank you all for coming out," she smiled again. "I hope you all got sufficiently intoxicated, and had a good time. We are Abby Railway. Goodnight, North Carolina!"

The music ceased and the band made their way backstage. Velma stood and said, "We should get back there, too. Kaitlyn's our ride."

Snaking their way through the raucous that was thoroughly disappointed the show was over, they arrived to the entrance backstage, now guarded by a pair of large, thick, well muscled men wearing matching tight black shirts. They were a little too tight, in Fred's opinion. The teens wouldn't have even gotten near the door they were standing before if it wasn't for the red bands they wore around their wrists. Allowing them, and only them, entrance backstage as a D.J. jumped up on stage and began to spin records, they slipped into the back.

Velma was snatched up in the arms of Jeremy Jupiter. He squeezed the young girl tight, eliciting a giggle from her short frame. A quick spin followed, and the young man sat her back down.

"Congratulations," she said. "You guys sounded amazing."

"If it wasn't for you finding this place, Velma, we wouldn't have even been able to play here," replied Jeremy, smiling from ear-to-ear, thinking back on the show they had just put on. "Man, I can't believe so many people showed up just for us!"

"Well, you deserve it."

The drummer, tired like he'd just run a marathon but still excited out of his mind, had just only noticed the two guys standing behind Abby Railway's very first fan. "You brought friends?! Awesome!"

"Yeah, and I'd introduce you, but I came with Kaitlyn, and I wanna' catch her before she leaves."

"Oh, shit, I just saw her go out the door. You might be able to catch-"

Velma was already on her way with the boys trailing quickly behind. Fred was already formulating what he was going to say to Kaitlyn in his head. He would never forgive himself for his natural born life if he didn't at least ask her out, even if got shot down like a Tie-Fighter. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, the young man was met by a sight he hadn't expected. Kaitlyn working her tongue into the mouth of her bassist, Andy.

Both he and Shaggy stopped and the stoner slowly turned to his friend. "You've got to be kidding me…" remarked Fred.

* * *

She was going stir-crazy. Not being able to leave the house whatsoever was quickly driving Daphne mad. Seeing the walls of her room on a daily basis, it made her want to attack the next thing she saw like a wild animal. The next person that walked through her door was going to get a feral beating, which is why her parents left her mostly alone during her grounding/internment.

The young red-head lay lazily sprawled across her bed, head hanging off the edge upside down, staring at her flat screen, watching Friday Night Smackdown. She cursed Shaggy for getting her into professional wrestling; now she couldn't stop watching every Monday, every Friday, she even ordered pay-per-views. She also had favorite wrestlers, and caught herself making audible reactions to the action in the ring. Was it a little embarrassing? Yes. Did she care? Not even a little.

Warm breath on her neck brought her attention away from the inevitable R.K.O. on screen to the face that was eye-level. Her Great Dane was watching her with interest, head listing ever so slightly to the side. She smiled and the canine's ears folded in pleasure when she ran her hand along the length of his large head. After she ceased her petting, he craned his head forward to lovingly lick her face in return. Daphne loved it when Scooby did that.

"Daphne!" she heard her dad call as her dog nuzzled her.

The teen rolled off of the bed and hollered back, "What?!"

"Come down here for a minute!"

She somehow groaned loud enough for her dad to hear downstairs as she stepped out of her room. Daphne padded down the hard-wood stairs barefoot and headed toward the front door, Scooby not far behind her. She found her father in the living room, still wearing his suit, unfastening his tie. Sitting across from him, legs crossed seductively, perfectly applied lipsticked smile turned upward in a smirk, wearing a black dress that hug her body tightly, showing every curve, was Patricia Harkon. The late principal's wife.

"You should've told me we were having a guest," Daphne's father said to his daughter. "She was getting out of her car just as I was pulling up."

"Hello," the lightly tanned, brunette-haired woman greeted the young woman as she tried to figure out just what was going on.

Her father went on. "I was speaking with Ms. Harko-"

"Please, Nedley, Patricia is fine," the woman interrupted with another smile.

He nodded slightly and said, "Patricia was saying that the school's actually letting you take another audition for the cheerleading squad and is even considering head cheerleader! Why didn't you tell us?"

Daphne was silent for a long while, staring at the woman before her who just continued to smile. "I guess it slipped my mind."

Patricia straightened her back, layering her hands atop each other over her knee. "Your lovely daughter and I just have to iron out the details. If you wouldn't mind, Nedley…"

Daphne's father got the hint and stood. "I'll leave you two to it then. I hope you get on the team, sweetheart." He quickly left the room, leaving Daphne alone with the black-clad seductress.

"So, what's the deal succubus? Why're you in my house?" she asked.

She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. "Y'see, I found this add on the internet for a private investigation service called Mystery Incorporated… your name was on the list of founders, so I thought I'd come by and see how much you charge."

"What? That doesn't…" Slowly, Daphne came to realization of what she was unknowingly involved in, and bit her lip, imagining just what she would do to Shaggy the next time she saw him. He wouldn't be able to have children once she was through with him. "What do you want?"

"There are rumors floating around that I'm a bit of a whore. They obviously aren't true, and I would like them dispelled."

"Listen, I don't know what the fuck you got yourself into, but-"

"How does a thousand dollars for helping me out sound?"

Daphne heard nothing but rushing water after those last words. Every muscle in her body and cell in her brain was screaming at her to kick the woman's toned behind right out the door, but she just nodded in affirmation. A thousand dollars was far too sweet to pass up, even if it meant trying to change what others thought of someone. She could already feel the money in her hands…

Shaggy was still dead if she ever got a hold of him, though.

**{A/N Read and Review if you wouldn't mind.}**


	4. A Thousand Reasons

**A/N {I'm shocked at the attention this fic is getting, but I thank you for all of it and appreciate the reviews. Please read on, enjoy chapter 4, and as always, lemme' know what you think if you feel the need!}**

The pizza box was unceremoniously placed on the table without care and the lid thrown open as the sounds of the delivery guy's ragged and beaten car attempting, and failing, to start were heard at the street. Sitting in back of the Blake household by the unreasonably large, oval-shaped pool, the quartet began to tear into the ground-beef topped pizza without remorse. Daphne's Great Dane, Scooby, sat directly beside the table, his face reaching up to the table-top due to his size, watching the group intently as they ate. Every once in a while, one of the teenagers would take a piece of beef from the pizza and toss it his way.

"I don't think there's a decision to be made. We're doing this, right?" Velma asked. She had yet to touch the slice laid out on the paper plate in front of her, a little too busy with her Vita.

Fred picked a second slice out of the pie of huge New York style pizza. "Of course we're friggin' doing this. The hell you think?"

"So, for once in his natural-born life, Shaggy done good?" Daphne asked, staring at her only-slightly stoned friend. Shaggy was having a rather bad day, seething over apparently wasted money that was used to purchase considerably underwhelming marijuana. He wasn't feeling anything from the weak cannabis.

"Fred, never, ever suggest buying from your cousin again…" remarked Shaggy.

"Hey, you asked if I knew a guy, and I know a guy. It's not my fault your tolerance is so high."

Shaggy scoffed and reached into the pizza box for another slice. He noticed Scooby still staring, begging for some more of the savory, greasy, delicious meat, and tossed the largest piece to the canine. "**Thanks, Shaggy**."

"No prob…" replied the stoner. Shaggy bit into the pizza and began to chew, the cogs in his mind slowly turning until he came to the realization just who had thanked him. He turned to the dog, happily chewing the beef in his mouth.

"**Can I have another?**"

His mouth didn't move, but Shaggy was one-billion percent sure he had just heard someone ask a question, and the other teenagers were busy with their conversation. He did his best to turn away from the dog and back to the conversation at hand. "Fred. Forget what I said… this weed is plenty strong…"

Fred squinted his eyes at the stoner. "O…kay? Anyway, Daph, what exactly did Ms. Harkon say?"

"You mean the succubus?"

A far-away look appeared in the clean-cut blonde's eyes and he said, "Yes. That … mature, sexy, tanned succubus…"

Daphne rolled her violet eyes. "I talked to her on the phone last night. She said the man that's been spreading the 'loose' rumors about her is an ex lover."

"Got kicked to the curb, huh?"

"I guess. She gave me his name," Daphne placed her iPad on the table after taking it from her lap, "and I pulled him up on Facebook."

Setting her handheld game system aside, Velma turned the tablet around. "Charles Pennyworth? Am I the only one that just pictured this guy tying some chick to a set of train tracks?"

"Right? You hate him already, don't you?"

"Relationship status, single."

"And possibly angry?"

"And it says he's a lawyer."

Fred leaned over to get a look at the man's Facebook page as well. While scrolling downward, Velma passed by a photo of the man with some of the people from his law-firm.

"Whoa, whoa, scroll back up," the young man said, feeling as if he had seen the man before. When Velma did, and Fred got a better look at him, he definitely recognized the man. "Dude, I know this douchebag. He represented my dad's advertising company when they got sued. He came to my house a few times to talk to my dad about the suit."

"You sure it's the same guy?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, yeah. I could never forget this piece of garbage. The guys at his firm call him Charlie; he's supposed to be one of the best up-and-coming lawyers in the firm. That doesn't say much, though, 'cause he works at one of the worst firms in the state."

Daphne leaned forward, bringing her elbows to the tabletop and started to think. "You remember where his firm is? Or better yet, where he lives?"

"No, but I think I can find out. My dad's assistant always keeps that kinda' stuff on file, and she was working for us when we used Pennyworth."

"She keep them in her computer?" asked Velma. She picked her Vita back up and resumed play.

"Yeah."

"Well, since you don't know much about computers other than control-alt-delete, I think Imma' hafta' accompany you on this one. You'll probably just crash her system."

Tossing the rest of her pizza back into the box, Daphne sighed. "Awesome. Since I can't leave the house because of my Sith Lord parents, you guys will have to do most of the legwork."

"Don't worry about it, Daph. We'll take care of this one." Fred rose up out of his seat. "Shaggy, let's roll. We're taking your van."

The stoner didn't respond, just stared wide-eyed at Daphne's dog.

"Shaggy!"

The dirty-blonde jumped up out of his seat and hollered as he fell down to the concrete. "Son of a… don't do that!"

"Do what? Maybe you should cutback on the smoking…"

Shaggy turned back to the dog.

"**Yes Shaggy. Maybe you should…**"

* * *

"I'm home!" Fred yelled into the two-story home as he, Velma and Shaggy stepped over the threshold. No response was heard. "Anybody here? No?"

"Looks like we've got the place to ourselves. Point me in the direction of the computer," Velma said, gently rubbing a small square cloth on the lenses.

Shaggy screamed, almost as if he had seen a hokey-mask wearing zombie outside the window. The cause of his girlish shriek, when his two companions turned to investigate, was a small Jack-Russell terrier, with mostly white and brown fur, that stood before him, staring curiously. The C-student kept his back to the wall, trying to stay as far away from the canine as humanly possible, ignoring the questioning looks he received from both Fred and Velma.

"Dude. It's a terrier. Since when are you afraid of dogs?" Fred knelt and ran and hand along the length of the small hound's body.

"Since thirty minutes ago! When did you get a dog?!"

"He's Miranda's, not mine…" he said. The teen then turned to address the dog. "Why'd they leave you here all by yourself?"

Returning to standing position, Fred looked back to Shaggy, who was still noticeably freaked out by the pooch's presence. "What did he say?" asked the stoner.

"Anyway … come on. Miranda's room is upstairs."

Velma donned her glasses again. "Her room? She doesn't stay here, does she?"

"She has an apartment, but never sleeps there. She's always here … torturing me."

After ascending the straight staircase, Miranda's bedroom was just off to the left, with his dad's office the only thing separating Fred's room from hers. She never kept her door locked, making entry as simple as turning the knob, but the high-schooler had only been in the guestroom once before, and that was on the invitation of its resident. Otherwise, Fred tried to stay as far away as possible.

He threw open the door and walked in to the small room, with only a single twin-sized bed, a modern-styled dresser with a mirror hanging from the wall above, a flat screen television in the corner atop a black stand, and a desk opposite the bed, pushed up against the wall. Two-dozen stuffed animals of varying species and sizes were pilled in the corner in a messy pyramid.

Sliding down into the office chair before the desk, Velma pressed the power button on Miranda's Dell laptop, which came to life almost immediately, as if it was in sleep-mode. Not surprising, because Miranda frequently left her computer lying around the house, still running, having forgotten to turn the device off. After a few clicks of the mousepad, she found her documents. Scrolling through the older case-files, the young woman located the file in question, regarding the suit Fred mentioned.

"Your dad's assistant should really lock certain documents."

"Just find the info we need, Velma."

Shaggy sat in the corner of the room, still infatuated with the dog that had greeted them at the door. He held the pooch out at arm's length. "Come on. Talk. Speak," he continuously commanded.

"Shaggy, why the hell are you talking to Chance? He won't respond."

"His name is Chance?"

A sound was heard from down the hall and the trio froze. "Are you sure no one is here, Fred? 'Cause I don't know if we could give an explanation of why we're in this room without it sounding like complete bullshit!" Velma proclaimed.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Just keep working." The blonde looked to Shaggy and nodded in the direction of the door.

"But, I don't wanna'!"

Cracking the door just enough, Fred leaned his upper body out of the bedroom and scanned the empty hallway. Chance darted out of the room and ran around the corner, and ran downstairs, disregarding the commands that were whispered his way.

"Get back here, you little fuck!" Shaggy whispered, too afraid to give chase.

After realizing that the canine wasn't going to return, the two young men reluctantly followed down the staircase. Now they could hear whispering, and the dog repeatedly barking as he often did when he was excited. Reaching the staircase landing, the duo rounded the corner and were met by an unexpected, and for Fred, one he was quite familiar with, seeing it almost every night when on his way to his room.

Kneeling by Chance, holding a toy bone in front of his small face was Miranda, dressed in nothing by am old t-shirt a size and a half too small and a pair of daisy dukes. The pair of noise-canceling headphones on her head, over her curly blonde locks kept her from noticing the two teens just a few feet away.

"Dude…" was all Shaggy was able to get out.

"Yup. That happens all the time here…" Before the stoner could make another statement, Fred cut him off and said, "No, it is not possible to body switch with me."

"Son of bitch…"

Finally, the twenty-two year old saw the pair out of the corner of her eye, and stood up, ending her play time with Chance. "Oh, hey, Freddie. When d'you get back?"

"About five minutes ago. Where were you?"

"Garage. Had to get some files out of there," she said, gesturing to the folder in her free hand, the one not holding the dog toy. "What're you up to?"

Thinking quickly, Fred pulled his phone and began to compose a text message as he responded, "Just hanging out with some friends."

_Get out. Not alone down here, dont think I can stall._ He pressed send on the message, pushing it to Velma's cell, hopefully in time before Miranda made her way upstairs.

"Oh, before I forget, your dad went on a business trip with some of the other senior members of Neptune Advertising. He won't be back 'til next month the earliest," Miranda reported. The sympathy in her eyes was not only unwanted, but Fred didn't much care that his father wouldn't be around for a while. It didn't really matter to him.

He shrugged. "Alright."

His indifference did not surprise Miranda at all. Skip didn't have much of a presence in Fred's life, outside of living in the same household. The man didn't know his son; in fact she believed she was closer to the teen than his actual father, who spent most of his time working, or staying out late with his fellow partners. Miranda always felt for the young man because she had similar relationship with her parents, the only difference being her father hadn't wanted her in the first place.

"Hey, I'm going to the movies with a friend tonight," the woman admitted. "You wanna' go?"

Fred smiled. "Appreciate the offer, but I can't. I promised Daphne I'd help with her homework…"

"Okay. Lemme' know if you change your mind…"

Velma descended the stairs quickly, and came to Fred's side, thanking him for letting her use his bathroom. The trio hurriedly made their way back to Shaggy's van, and climbed into the black and yellow vehicle.

"Well?"

"Offloaded all the info onto my phone," Velma said proudly as the stoner started the engine.

"So, where does he live?"

"A little under five minutes away from Daph, believe it or not."

"You're kidding…"

"No lie."

Fred pulled the passenger-side door shut and turned to vehicles owner. "You heard the lady, Shaggy. Get us to the Pennyworth residence!"

The shifter was put in drive, but dirty-blonde teen had yet to take his foot off of the brake. "Do we even know what we're gonna' do when we get there?"

"I'll figure something out, let's just get us there."

* * *

"I'm sorry, who are you again?"

Now that they were in the moment, the plan that the group had cobbled together didn't sound too intelligent. "We're with the Whistle Blower independent news," Fred said, doing what he did best – lying. "We're doing a feature on some of the most successful local business men and women."

"And we'd like to interview _you_ Mr. Pennyworth," Shaggy added.

The two young men had stopped by Daphne's on the way, explained their plan, and she had done her very best to help make them look presentable. She'd given Shaggy one of her dad's dress shirts, since they were around the same size, tied his shoulder length hair into neat ponytail and hit him with a small spurt of perfume, as to mask the smell of marijuana. Fred, she just combed back his more neatly done mane, giving him a more professional appearance, popped up the collar of the white polo shirt he was already wearing, and cleanly pushed an orange ascot down the front. Velma stood behind the pair, holding a digital camera that was "borrowed" from atop Daphne's father's dresser.

"How come I've never heard of you?" asked Pennyworth curiously.

Fred's mind worked fast, and he came up with, "Sir, we're mostly a blog, that tries to do its part in shining a light on those who are overlooked by the majority of the larger papers and syndicated news, all the blowhards that only report crime from nine-to-twelve, the ones that put on their best suits so they can sit in front of a camera behind a desk, instead of going out and pounding the pavement like respectable reporters!"

Even Shaggy was shocked by the sudden, passionate outburst. Impressed by the young man's heart, Charles allowed the trio into his home, a large, two-story, modern-furnished home which appeared to be ripped right out of a high-class HGTV show. Their shoes clicked against the polished wood floors as they were led from the foyer into the large, expansive living room, decorated with white and black furniture with steel legs. The accessories around the room were of matching steel and or black metals. Something else noteworthy that sat in the room was a young woman, college age, with short brunette hair cut into a pixie-styling. The scowl she wore was evident that the three teenagers had most likely come during some time of argument between the two.

"Oh, you have company," Fred noted.

Shaggy turned to the up-and-coming lawyer and asked, "Is this a bad time, man?"

Staring into the eyes of the young, well-dressed woman sitting on the sofa, Pennyworth replied, "It's a _perfect_ time."

"Alright, well, you can take a seat on the sofa and get comfortable. I need to discuss a few things about production with my crew," Fred said, taking Shaggy and Velma by the arms and pulling them away.

The volume of Velma's voice fell to a whisper. "Alright, so we're in… now what?"

"We need to find out why this guy is spreading these rumors, first and foremost. Then we gotta' try and stop it. I guess we improvise the rest," said Fred, still composing the finer points of his plan in his mind. He assessed the room, and a thought came to mind when his eyes fell upon Charles' houseguest. "Shaggy, how good are you at running a job?"

"Running… dude what are you talking about?"

"Lying through your damn teeth and thinking on your feet to completely deceive someone else."

"I didn't know there was a term for it, so Imma' just go ahead and assume that I'm not too good at it. Why?"

"You think you can try and hold together this reporter lie with Pennyworth while I see what I can get outta' his lady friend?"

"Probably, but I don't know for how long…"

"All I need is a few minutes."

* * *

"Thank you for giving me a moment of your time, miss," said Fred as he took a seat across from the young woman in Pennyworth's house. They were on the balcony overlooking the rather wealthy man's backyard, and Fred had a difficult time not marveling at the surroundings.

"Sure, whatever." She was clearly occupied with checking her chocolate colored skin for any perfections, of which there was a great lack of, so the teenager decided to start with the questioning.

"So, first and foremost, your name?"

"Lisa Kennedy."

"Alright Ms. Kennedy. What is your relation with to Charles Pennyworth? Are you family, friends…?"

"I'm his girlfriend."

Fred feigned shock and surprise and went to put the development down on his notepad, though the young man had already guessed as much. He knew just where he wanted to take the conversation and how he could manipulate her reactions. "Interesting, because there's always been talk that Charles is a bit of ladies man, unable to settle for just one woman."

"You saying he's a cheating piece of shit? Unfortunately for me, that's true..."

"Whoa, I didn't mean to get into anything too personal, but as a reporter, I have to ask: have you caught him cheating?"

"Oh, big time. I come home a few nights ago, and the bastard is right in the on top of some old woman-"

"She wouldn't happen to have dark hair, perfectly tanned skin, an ample butt and legs you could climb, would she?"

"What?"

"What?" A narrow eyebrow was raised at the young man and he tried to change the subject. "Anyway, I bet that was shocking. Y'know, finding him banging some other woman."

"Yeah. Shocking."

"What can you tell me about this woman?" asked Fred.

"Well, you gave a pretty accurate description of her… but, I think her name is Patty, or something. At least that's what the contact in his cell says."

"Hold on, you're not telling me he has her number in his phone, are you?!"

She tossed a smart phone Fred's way, which was barely caught. He looked up at her and she nodded. "That's his. Go ahead and open it up. He never locks his phone."

Freddie ran a finger across the touch the touch screen, unlocking the device and smiled when he accessed the contacts. "You stupid idiot…" he remarked.

Scrolling through the lists of women that were in his phone, he found many different numbers with only the names of women in it. He then went to the photo gallery and found many erotic and revealing snapshots of different women. The shot of Patricia that was present in Steven's phone was also there, giving the teens all the evidence that they needed to quell the rumors being spread by the lawyer. It appeared that this was a phone strictly used for sex instead of business. Patricia wasn't loose necessarily, but Pennyworth was a womanizer who didn't like losing or, more specifically, getting dumped.

"You mind if I keep this?" he asked.

For the first time since they began speaking, Lisa gave a bright, cheerful smile and said, "Promise me you'll use it to make Charlie's life very unpleasant, and you can take whatever you want."

Fred jumped up out of his seat. "I swear." He then leaned forward, reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle kiss. "And by the way, he's a dumbass for being unfaithful to a lady as gorgeous as you…"

The woman raised her eyebrow again, trying to suppress a grin.

* * *

Velma was in a trance. Pennyworth had brought both her and Shaggy back to the room where he kept a secret collection of geeky paraphernalia, like Boromir's actual sword from the Lord of the Rings film, swinging the blade around expertly, almost as if he had been doing it for all of his life. The short, nerdy girl felt as if there was no blood rushing her head as she watched in awe, the camera she held in her hands, whose screen was supposed to be firmly centered on Pennyworth, slowly listed to the side.

"I … think imma' pass out," she mumbled.

Fred poked his head into the small room and said, "Let's go!"

Standing quickly, Shaggy followed him out the door, effectively leaving Velma in the house, completely unaware of her surroundings. The ascot-wearing blonde ran back into the expensive home, grabbed the girl by the arm and lifted her up onto his shoulder, carrying her out. He took her back out to the van, which was already running, and tossed her in the back like a sack of potatoes.

"Punch it!" he told Shaggy as he jumped in the passenger seat.

"You got evidence on Pennyworth?"

"Dude, I hit pay dirt. I've got phone numbers, pictures, text messages, everything. We just need to get Velma to spread this stuff on the internet…" Freddie looked back at the girl in the back of the back of the van. She was staring down at the camera, looking at the footage they got. "You alright Velm Velm?"

"C-can I keep this footage?"

"For _what_?" Shaggy asked.

"Well, I can think of a couple of uses…" Both of the boys turned around to look at her. "Oh, what, you two morons can drool over Patricia, but I can't have a fantasy?"

"I mean, it's just unexpected…" Shaggy said as he turned his eyes back to the road, and the red light they sat before. The stoner briefly looked over to his side mirror, then back to the cars light hanging from the power lines. He did a double-take back to the mirror and looked at the black Mercedes rumbling down the street in their lane.

"Hey, Fred… you notice what kinda' car was in that dude's driveway…?"

"Uh, a Mercedes, I think," he tried to recall the vehicle.

"Color?"

"Black."

"Yeah. I thought so… he's following us…"

Fred, who had been reclining in his seat, jumped up and leaned his head out of the open window. "What?!" After a moment of silence, he ordered, "Run the light… Shaggy, run the damn light. Run the fucking light!"

The stoner slammed his foot down on the accelerator, pushing the van through an intersection that was thankfully devoid of traffic for the moment. The Mercedes did the exact same thing and blew through the light.

Fred ran his hands repeatedly through his blonde hair. "Oh, this is bad… Your shitty van cannot outrun a German luxury car!"

"Don't talk about the Mystery Machine like that!"

Fred turned in his seat to the driver. "What the hell did you just say? Did you name this piece of crap?"

"The Mystery Machine!"

"That is hilarious."

A bullet went crashing through the passenger side mirror and the trio unintentionally harmonized screams. "That dude just shot at us! Where did he get a gun, who knew he had a gun?!" Shaggy hollered as the van began to shake, being pushed passed its limits.

"Uh, shit. We gotta' find a way to get this guy off our asses…" Fred unbuckled himself and climbed into the back of the van. He looked around for something they could use, a weapon or something. "Shaggy, don't you have like a friggin' shotgun in here or something?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Well, we'll just have to improvise…"

As Charles pursued the teenagers, infuriated and desperate to get his phone back, the van's doors were thrown open. A bottle of beer was tossed out the back and into the windshield of his car. In each of his hands, Fred held empty bottles that had been discarded by Shaggy, proudly wielding them like weapons. He leaned back and hurled a second at the lawyer's vehicle.

"Self defense mudda' fucka'!" roared Fred.

Pennyworth fired blindly out his window and the young man fell to his knees and covered his head as they zoomed over the van. Freddie threw a volley of bottles out the back, trying to do enough damage to the Mercedes to at least get the man to think about stopping. pursuit He did not.

"I'm running outta' ammo back here, Shagg! Why don't you drink more?"

"Think of something!" pleaded Shaggy. "This guy is gonna' waste us if you don't!"

Velma tapped Fred on the shoulder. "I got an idea…" she told him. He turned to just where she was gesturing, and cocked his head to the side.

"You think we can?"

The two knelt down and grabbed a hold of the heavy cinder block. Hoisting it up, they counted down, and vaulted it. It soared through the air, hitting its target almost perfectly, crashing through the car's windshield and smashing into Pennyworth's chest. His car swerved violently and sped right into an inactive street light. Shaggy slammed on brakes and the tio stared at the wicked wreck.

"... ya' think he's alright?" asked Shaggy.

* * *

"Welcome back to the nine-o-clock news. I'm Linda Buray."

"And I'm Patrick Hannel," said the reporters. "Breaking news, today. The accident on Harvey Rd. today was confirmed to have been caused by a cinder block flying through the windshield and into the driver. Now, he does have several broken ribs, but is alive. Investigators report that prior to the accident he did fire upon several teenagers with a gun. They are unharmed, just a little shaken."

"The culprit is a local lawyer by the name Charles Pennyworth. He is being charged with attempted murder…"

The four teens watched from the sofa in Velma's living room as the news story was told. "I cannot believe that he actually shot at the three of you," Daphne said.

"I can't believe you didn't get shot at because of your grounding. That's bullshit..." said Velma.

Daphne's doorbell rang, despite the late hour, and a smile spread across her pink lips. She stood and padded across the living room's carpeted floor in her socks. As she came to the door, the young woman looked into the mirror that hung on the wall across the hall and made sure there were no remnants of the junk food she had been shoveling into her mouth present on her face. She then looked out the peephole fumbled to get unlock the door.

Opening the door, Daphne stepped aside to allow Patricia entrance. "Good evening, succubus…" she said.

The older woman rolled her eyes and brushed a few strands of her long, curly, dark hair, pushing her way into the homestead. Her heels clicked against the floor as she entered into the living room where the others waited, eyes still glued to the television. "Well, well, well, all of Mystery Incorporated… Is this your headquarters?"

Shaggy and Fred sprung up out of their seats. "Hey, Mrs. Harkon…" Shaggy greeted her.

"How ya' doin'?"

"Calm down, boys," she told them, reaching into her purse. "Y'know, frankly, I didn't even think that you all were going to get this done… I was about to hire an actual private investigator, but you actually did it. And you broke that slandering bastard's sternum in the process, and that's just priceless."

She handed the check to Velma, who accepted it gladly and turned on her heels. "Thank you for your business! Be sure to recommend us to your friends!" said Fred, waving to the gorgeous woman as she walked away.

"No. I won't do any of that…"

Not caring whether she locked the door on her way out or not, the teenagers gathered around the check as Velma laid the piece of paper out on the coffee table. They stood in a circle, admiring it. Fred looked up to the others and said, "Guys. Mystery Incorporated just got paid for its very first job…"

A long moment of silence followed. Shaggy then cleared his throat and asked, "Is it weird this thing is turning me on?"


End file.
